Lacrimae Rerum
by Quiet One
Summary: A short story from the point of view of one of the children that had to fight in the battle of Helms Deep. Rating just to be safe, contains mild violence. Epilogue posted
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok, I don't believe I'm writing another story, I have a hard enough time updating the ones I have. This will be short though, just this chapter. 

  


It takes place in Rohan, and is from the point of view of a nine year old boy who had to fight in the battle of helms deep. Its inspired from the movie, so while I _have_ read the books, this fic is following the story line of the movie. And I'm not going for canon perfection, so it may be a little AU, I'm just trying to grasp the emotion. 

  


I saw the movie again today for the 2nd time, (I'm trying to break my FotR record of 5), and I almost cried when they showed the children suiting up for war, and it inspired me greatly. Anyway, on with the fic. Hope you like it. 

  


Oh, and the title is Latin, which quite literally means 'there are tears of things' which in other words means 'there are sad things in the world.' I though it was appropriate. 

  


Disclaimer: I don't own it

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


Lacrimae Rerum 

  


I pushed another spoonful of warm soup into my mouth, before letting the wooden utensil fall into the empty bowl with a clatter. Mother cleared away the dishes quickly, setting them on the floor by the stove, to be cleaned later. Ethaon, my elder brother who is sixteen years of age, ran his fingers through his blond hair and stood up.

  


"Ever since those strangers went to see the King this morning, people have been going in and out of the palace all day. Since Fathers no longer here to report whats going on, I'm going to go find out for myself." He gave Mother a quick kiss on the cheek and headed outside, fastening his worn cloak around his shoulders as he went. 

  


When Ethaon mentioned Father, I could not help but feel a stab of sorrow. Father had always been close to me, but he was gone now. He had died trying to defend our borders from the Orcs that constantly raid our countryside. Ever since his death, our family had been praying for some sort of miracle that would bring King Theoden to his senses. Ethaon has sworn that the problems all lie with Grima Wormtounge, the Kings adviser. He swears that he is poisoning the Kings mind, forcing him to do things that only weaken our city even more then it already is. 

  


Ethaon was not the first person to think that. In fact Eomer, the Kings own nephew had recently been banished, when his only real sin was being loyal to Rohan. Many had been banished, and because of this Mother had made Ethaon promise to be silent around officials, and to keep his views to himself. 

  


Cilan, my five year old younger sister ran inside, her friend Silean at her feet. The two had been playing in the small garden out back, but now that they were inside, their cloaks and shoes had been thrown in a heap on the floor by the front door. Mother grabbed a wet cloth and rushed after them, trying to wipe their dirt smeared faces clean. If there was one thing Mother couldn't stand, it was dirty faces.

  


"Mother!" A loud shout echoed from the door. I glanced over my shoulder to see Ethaon standing there a strange look on his face. Half excited, and half terrified. 

  


"What is it Ethaon? And don't be so loud in the house. We may be poor, but at least I brought you boys up with manners."

  


"Mother, you'll never believe it! The strangers! One of them was the wizard Gandalf, and somehow_ he's_ become the white wizard! And Grima's gone, and the real King Theoden's back! It was all a spell!" The look of terror in his eyes faded as he recounted what he learned, his sentences short and choppy from his excitment. A confused look came over Mothers face, and she grabbed Ethaon's hands, forcing them to his side.

  


"Ethaon, slow down. You're not making sense. What happened to King Theoden?"

  


"It was all a spell, Gandalf broke the spell over King Theoden! He's back! He's going to do something about the Orcs!" Mothers hands grabbed his shoulders and shook Ethaon urgently.

  


"Whats he going to do about it?" The look of terror returned to Ethaon's eyes. 

  


"A horse rode into town but a few hours ago. On it, was a small girl, and a boy no older then Diron," he said, nodding to me. "They brought word from the countryside of Rohan. Orcs have invaded, they set fire to houses and killed all of those that stayed behind. They said that the people fled to the fortress of Helms Deep. The King is making his decision as to what is to be done." Mother sank into the chair beside me, a frightened look on her face. 

  


"What is there to decide?" She asked, more to herself then anything, her voice sounding sullen and devoid of emotion. 

  


"Whether or not we should also flee to Helms Deep or stand and declare open war." A panicked look struck on Mothers eyes. 

  


"No!" She wailed standing quickly, grabbing Ethaon and holding him close, speaking into his hair. He looked rather uncomfortable in her grasp. "No," she continued breathlessly. "I've lost my husband, I will not let them take my eldest son as well. If we go to war, you will surely be called to battle. I cannot let that happen. Please, let us flee to the fortress, we will be safe there." 

  


Ethaon broke out of her grip with difficulty. In his place, Mother wrapped me in one arm and called to Cilan, wrapping her in the other. Cilan stayed quiet. She was to young to understand. 

  


"Silean, you'd best go home, your mother will want to see you." Silean nodded mutely, pulled her shoes on, wrapped her cloak around her and walked out the door, with a slight wave at Cilan. 

  


Throughout this entire conversation, I looked on in shock. I was to young to fully understand about the spell, and about the horrors of war, but I could understand the urgency. I had after all, lost a father to Orcs and I myself never wanted to have to face one. Mother glanced at Ethaon. 

  


"When will the decision be made?" she asked.

  


"Any moment," he responded. 

  


I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I would like to stay safe and retreat to Helms Deep, but there was always a chance that the Orcs would follow. On the other hand, I didn't want to lose Ethaon to war either. 

  


As if to verify Ethaon's response, a knock resounded on the thin wooden door. Everyone in the room froze, so I stood and answered it. A tall man, dressed like a solider stood there, a long official looking green cloak pulled tight around him. As soon as the door opened, Mother stood and walked to the door, Ethaon, and Cilan crowding behind her. 

  


"Ma'am, everyone must flee the town to Helms Deep, order of the King. Don't burden yourself with possessions, just bring whats necessary. Be ready as soon as possible." With that, the solider spun on his heel and ran off to the next house, screaming his message to any that might be outside listening as he went. I could see Mother visibly relax when this was said, though it was obvious through her posture that she desperately wished we could merely remain at home.

  


The mans words were all it took for the family to leap into action. Ethaon ran out the door after a few muttered words that were something along the lines of 'I'm going to prepare the old horse.' While Mother rushed about, trying to put together enough food to last for who knows how long, I concentrated on forcing Cilan into her cloak and shoes. She put up an awful fight, but I managed it after pining her hands to her sides and threatening to sit on her. 

  


  


~*~

  


The warm sun beat down upon my neck, and my hair plastered itself to my face. The line of villagers, all walking along with determined, yet sorrowful strides, stretched as far as the eye could see. They knew that even though we would now be safe, our homes and fields would be destroyed, and it was always hard to start over. Lord Aragorn, one of the four strangers, rode by me, tall and proud on his horse. Two of the other strangers, that go by the name of Legolas and Gimli rode behind him, both mounted on a stunning white horse. 

  


Even though I had seen him earlier, I still stared in awe at Prince Legolas. He was the first elf I had ever seen. He was so graceful yet strong, and held a look of both great wisdom and knowledge in his face. The dwarf that rode behind him, was also the first dwarf I had ever seen. He was a funny little creature, about the same hight as I, with a large metal helmet over his long braided, red hair. 

  


I watched as both horses rode quickly to the front of the line to ride beside the King and his niece Eowyn. I myself walked beside Mother, who was holding a very forced sounding conversation with one of our neighbors about the weather. You could tell from the tone in their voices, and from the way they desperately reached for topics that they were afraid. On my other side was Ethaon, who was leading our old brown horse. Loaded on the horse was as much food as we could bring, a few torn blankets, and my sister Calin. She had walked for the first few yards, as she was supposed to, before declaring that her feet hurt. Mother, being the kind person she was, had slung her pack of cooking utensils and a spare set of cloths over her back and allowed Calin to ride in the space that was left.

  


I looked behind me to see a wide expanse of land. Edoras had faded from view long ago I knew, though I still felt compelled to look for it on the horizon. As I turned to face front again, I caught sight of the two children that had ridden from the countryside to raise the alarm. The younger of the two, the girl, sat on the horse in front of her brother, tears flowing silently down her face. The boy had an arm wrapped protectively around her waist, though he held a look in his eye that showed he didn't believe we were safe yet. He had already seen the terror the Orcs had brought, already seen the death and destruction that they bring about. You could tell from his glance he had no hope left in him, no hope of finding his family, and no hope of surviving.

  


I glanced back around me, at the expressions on my families faces. Ethaon had an elated look on his face, he looked at this only as an adventure. He had no doubts that we would be returning home safely within a couple of weeks at the most. Calin remained very quiet, and it impossible to tell what she was thinking, or even if she knew what was going on around her, she was young after all. The King appeared to be happy, certain that we would be out of harms way at Helms Deep, and that reassured me. Though all of that reassurance was gone with a single glance at any of the strangers. They all wore a look of grieved determination, as if they knew we were marching to our doom. While I wasn't frightened before, my fear now grew with every step.

  


Hours passed uneventfully. In the beginning I tried to play games with myself. Counting games, and games where you had to find things, games of all sorts. Then over time, I grew weary, and was forced to concentrate solely on walking. One foot in front of the other. As easy a task it may seem, it was difficult, and I forced myself to struggle on. Looking around me, I guessed that others were beginning to feel the same way. Babies slept in mothers arms, and the mothers in turn leaned their heads on their husbands shoulders, weariness trying to lure their eyes closed. 

  


It was then that the shout came, the cry that Warg riders were attacking. It was also then that panic broke out. The King called for Lady Eowyn to lead the women and children on to Helms Deep, while the men stayed to fight them off. A good plan on paper perhaps, but easier said then done. Children that were just old enough to walk fled in all directions, women doing all they can to keep them in line, and herd them down the proper path. Younger children burst into tears, in a combination of fear and confusion, while men unsheathed their worn swords and wound there way through the screaming younger ones, trying to stop the attack before any were seriously injured. 

  


Ethaon grabbed father's old sword out of its scabbard from where it sat on the old horses saddle.

  


"Mother, let me go with the men! Let me fight! I can do it!" 

  


"No!" Mother called. "Your to young! Come with me, now!"

  


"Mother! Your always treating me like such a baby! I'm sixteen."

  


"Ethaon," Mother cried over the din. "This is not the time, nor the place to have this conversation! Put the sword down and follow me. You would only get in the way. Let us go!" Ethaon sighed angrily and mumbled a bit to himself, but nonetheless threw the sword back up on the horse behind Calin, taking a firm hold on the reins and running down the path. 

  


While this conversation went on, I stared in the direction that the men were riding in, straining to catch a glance of one of the Orcs. I did not see one though, for those remaining, myself included, felt all weariness banish itself from our systems, as we fled for our lives. I took off at a run, trying my best to keep up with the others, but it was hard, they ran swiftly, stopping only after what seemed like miles, though it twas surely not that far.

  


Nonetheless, when Lady Eowyn put up her hand to signal for a break, everyone was exhausted.

  


"We rest but for a few minutes. While we have escaped danger now, we do not know if they follow. Regroup yourselves and prepare to continue, we must reach Helms Deep by night fall," she declared, her hands in the air, signaling for silence.

  


When she was done talking, I gave up any hope of remaining standing. I collapsed on the ground, a ache in my side that refused to go away, and only seemed to get worse until it felt like it was ripping apart my very being. After a few moments of laying flat on the ground though, it slowly began to fade, and I was able to sit up. Our group looked a mess. Everyone was covered in sweat and dirt, while small scratches and bruises covered people who were hurt in the desperate attempts to separate from the men going to fight. Ethaon led the horse to us, and collapsed in the dirt beside me, leaving Cilan in the saddle. Mothers face regained some of its color, and I was able to stand up again. 

  


In a few moments, Eowyn stood and waved her hands to get our attention. 

  


"We must press on. Any children who are too tired to walk must be carried or placed on horses, please share any space you have. We can not stop again." At that, we began to walk again, a dull hush descending over the group. Now that we had slowed down, many of them realized that their fathers, and brothers, and husbands had stayed to fight. I myself was sad, though no one close to me had stayed. I think it was just the general groups moral that weighed down upon my mind. That and the feeling that death was a possibility, and not just an unfathomable dream. 

  


~*~ 

  


When the gates of Helms Deep came into view, everyone let out a sigh of relief. The depressed air was gone. A shout of joy ran through the crowd and those in front began to run towards the gates. When we reached them, the heavy wooden door was thrown open and we all filed in. The sight that met my eyes when I was able to see past the tall heads of the people in front of me, was overwhelming. It was as if the whole of Rohan was packed inside the gates. Actually, I guess thats true in a way, the only people of Rohan that were missing were those still on their way, delayed by battle. 

  


I watched as the little girl and boy that had raised the alarm in Edoras caught sight of their mother, and ran to her outstretched arms, all three crying with happiness. As the boy embraced her, his eyes lit up, as if some speck of hope had returned to him. 

  


Mother took my hand as we entered through the gates and signaled for Ethaon to lead the horse and follow her. We found a small area on the steps to the side of the building, that hadn't already been settled by our neighbors, and sat down. Ethaon lifted Calin down from the old horse and undid all of the bags it wore strapped across its back, before leading him to the makeshift stables. Mother held Calin and I close to her for a moment, before pulling out a scrap of cloth and trying to wipe our faces clean. In the midst of a crisis Mother was worried about how clean our faces were. Typical. Ethaon returned a moment later, and Mother attacked him with the wash cloth as well, though he fought and struggled, trying to push it away. 

  


The fight over something as petty as clean faces seemed to calm everyones nerves, so once that was over, we sat down on the steps, huddled together, and waited. At this point all we could do was wait, but the only problem was we didn't know what we were waiting for. 

  


~*~

  


When the men came bursting through the doors of Helms Deep, a more relaxed feel hung in the air. That was until we caught sight of just how many returned. It seemed a mad rush as women and children alike, rushed to the group of horses, trying to find loved ones. It was now, that the moral seemed to split in two. Half of the crowd burst into uncontrollable tears as they realized their loved ones were gone for all eternity, with out even a proper farewell, and began to cure the Kings decision. The other half shed tears as well, but from happiness as they found the arms of their family and friends. They were relieved that we had come here. 

  


I stood back from the mess, standing alone on a stair positioned right in front of the gates, feeling like an outsider from it all, for I had no definite emotion. Half of me knew that I should be relaxing. Even if Orcs did attack, we would be fine, this fortress was supposedly undefeatable. But then there was that gnawing worry inside of me. Warning me against getting too comfortable. As I stood there on those steps, I also though about my ancestors. They had probably grown up free of care, enjoying their childhood. Not like me, with a constant knot in my stomach over me and my families safety, over the politics of our country, and over whats right and wrong. I was only nine after all. If only I had grown up back then.

  


I took a deep breath and looked back at the scene before me. King Theoden was conversing quietly with Lady Eowyn. She looked sad, as though she were about to cry, and I could only guess that the King brought her bad news. The King kissed her hand and straightened, heading up the stairs I was standing on, which lead towards the main enclosed part of the building. As he passed, he glanced down at me, giving me an encouraging smile and a gentle pat on the head. It twas then I knew we would be alright. With a small sigh, I headed back to where Mother, Ethaon, and Cilan sat, ready to sit and relax until the time came that we could return home peacefully. 

  


~*~

  


Several hours later, the doors to the fortress were thrown open yet again, and Lord Aragorn burst through them. I was rather surprised, for I had not noticed that he was missing from the returning group in the first place. He looked injured, yet he never slowed, his pace quickening even, as he reached the stairs. Several of those sitting on the steps, being the curious people that they were, waited a few moments to make sure he was already inside, before running along behind him to hide behind columns and to press ears against doors in an attempt to try to find out what had disturbed him so. 

  


After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, word spread around that the Orc army was approaching, ten thousand strong, their only intent to kill, and that we must prepare for battle. We had known all along that Orcs might follow us, and that they might try to take over, yet I don't think the full magnitude of what this meant had set in yet. 10,000 strong. While it may just seem like a number, it was a large one. I had no idea of just how many of us there were, but it wasn't even close to that. Not even half of that, or a third of that. We had maybe a couple hundred unskilled men, either too old or too young to fight. Upon saying those words in my head, realization set in. Ethaon. And Mother. 

  


Up until then, I had been wandering aimlessly about the enclosure, but now I broke into an all out run back to where we had been sitting. As I went, I heard several of the Kings guard call out the official message. All men who were able to wield arms must report to the armory for outfitting, all women and children must retreat to the caves. 

  


'Its really happening,' I repeated over and over again softly, but while I said it, my brain still never really comprehended the words. We were going to war. And we were going to war _now_. Every one of those moments when I had felt reassurance had been lies. 10,000 Orcs against just the few of us would surely mean the fall of Rohan with or without Helms Deep. It would make no difference. 

  


As I approached where my family had been resting, what I saw seemed to play before my eyes in slow motion. A large man dressed in thick armor, all bearing the Kings symbol, stood, talking with Mother, who was crying uncontrollably, Ethaon wrapped in her arms. The man lay a sympathetic hand on Mothers shoulder before taking a firm hold on Ethaon's arm, gently pulling him away. 

  


Any knots that had been in my stomach were doubled as I looked at Mother's huddled form, with little Calin clutching her skirts, confusion in her glance, to young to realize was going on. It was then that Mother and the guard caught sight of me. I stopped running, and tried to skid to a halt, but my feet slipped out from under me, my hand coming in contact with the roughly cut stone floor. The guard said something to Mother and pointed at me, and though I couldn't hear what was being said, I suddenly understood.

  


I felt every muscle in my body freeze up as Mothers sobbing got louder. I repeated the message again in my head as I struggled to my feet, 'all men able to wield arms'. All men. Even though I was only nine, I finally realized that would include me. I was going to war. 

  


Fear and dread clutched my soul as Mother's tears became uncontrollable and she fell to the ground in a heap. 

  


My eyes grew wide and tears began to trickle down my face as well as the guard came to me, pressing gently on my shoulder, trying to direct me to the armory. I turned around him, reaching out a hand for Mother and Calin, feeling my tears coming uncontrollably now. The guard whispered a few comforting words to me, but they fell on deaf ears. My stomach was so knotted that I felt sick, and would have retched had I not forced it down. 

  


Ethaon held up a hand asking the guard to stop for a moment, and he got to his knees looking me straight in the eye. Though he fought hard to hide it, behind the strength, I could see the terror in his eyes, as he struggled to calm me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke softly to me. 

  


"Please my brother, we will be fine. Do not fear. This is not the first time our country has been in danger, but we have always lived through it in the past." Ethaon pulled me close in a tight hug. "There is always hope." He pulled back and gave me a wry, if somewhat forced smile. "We are the people of Rohan. We will not fail." Despite the dread in my heart Ethaon's words encouraged me somewhat, and I allowed him to take my hand as if I were three again, and lead me to the armory. 

  


As we drew closer to the armory, my heart sank. A tall man was passing out weapons and armor to every one standing around. Half of them seemed so old they were barely able to walk, and many other were my age, standing shock still, fear in there eyes. 

  


The tall man approached Ethaon first, giving him only a small shield and a coat of mail, for he already had fathers old sword in its worn scabbard strapped around his waist. The man patted Ethaon's shoulder, before continuing on to me.

  


He pulled a metal helmet onto my head, one that was several sizes to big, and held out a short sword, a sword that would be considered a mere dagger by a full grown man. When I saw that weapon, and unconsciously saw my hand close about it, I couldn't believe it. My eyes grew wide with shock as my arm registered the heavy weight of it. I had never been allowed to wield arms before. I had never been allowed to accompany Father when he hunted, and never been allowed to touch the sword that now hung about Ethaon's waist, never even been allowed to use the kitchen knives that rested in Mothers pack. Now, without any proper training at all, I was being asked to not only hold a sword, but to use it in war as well. 

  


The tall man saw my fear of the weapon obviously, and handed me a small scabbard and belt, helping me secure it, so that I wouldn't have to face the blade until I was ready. Frowning at it, I sheathed it and turned to look out at the others suiting up for war. All of them looked as scared as I, if not more so.

  


Ethaon gave me one last comforting look before leading me off to the steps I had stood on this afternoon. This afternoon seemed as if it had happened so long ago, and I found it hard to believe that was actually the same day as today that we had marched out here. Together, Ethaon and I sat down on a stair to wait. Thats all we could do now was wait. Wait for darkness and our impending doom. 

  


~*~

  


Right when it seemed like nothing could help us. Right as the sun sank over our lands, possibly for the last time, drenching everything in blue and pink streaks of light, a final beacon of hope came to us, though at first it did not seem it. A horn rang out, loud and long in the night, one that while it seemed frightening, was also hauntingly beautiful. Ethaon looked at me. 

"Their coming!" He hissed. I shot him a puzzled look. "The Orcs!" he continued. Those around us had taken up the call as well, shouting that the Orcs had arrived, and battle was about to begin. I heard a loud voice echo out and turned to look at the top of the stairs. 

  


"That is no Orc horn! Open the gates" Lord Aragorn shouted, his call ringing through the suddenly hushed area as he ran to the door. As the gates were slowly drawn open, the horn sounded again, long and clear in the night. I was standing perfectly still on my stair, right in front of where whatever it was would enter the fortress when in marched the most beautiful and terrible thing I had ever seen. 

  


Row upon row of men, or actually elves I think, all clad in perfect blue cloaks each clasped over their left shoulder, with there shining blond hair tied back from their fair faces, marched in perfect formation, moving more as one fluid unit then as many individuals. The ranks stretched for quite a ways, each elf bearing a beautifully constructed bow, and a long, elegant blade. The silence that surrounded them was shocking, their footfalls barely audible. It was obvious with only a glance that they were impeccably trained.

  


One elf, slightly different from the rest, in a bright red cloak marched next to the formation and walked up to where Lord Aragorn and King Theoden stood. 

  


I could not hear what was being said, but that didn't matter. Though even with the elves, our numbers were still not even half of what the Orcs had, it would help. And even if the Elves themselves made no difference, which I was sure they would, their presence was enough to lift the spirits of our men, maybe just enough to win this battle. 

  


I watched, a smile on my face for the first time since setting foot in this awful prison as the Elf and Lord Aragorn greeted each other, and as Aragorn embraced the Elf in a warm and thankful hug. The elf looked confused at first, not used to the customs of men, or of such casual behavior, but soon relaxed and awkwardly patted Lord Aragorn's shoulder.

  


I looked up at Ethaon excitedly. We had a prayer after all. 

  


~*~ 

  


  


Hours later still, I stood high on the wall surrounding the fortress, Ethaon at my side. I looked up at his tall figure enviously. He stood proud and tall, fathers sword clutched in his right hand, and a determined look on his face. Rain was falling, and the lights of the torches of our enemies were in sight. My heart caught in my throat looking out at them, for they would soon be upon us, and after that there was no turning back. 

  


During those few minutes, my mind raced, flashing first to Mother and Cilan, both safe but frightened in the caves. And then back to my ancestors. If only they knew what their great-great-grandson would be doing someday. 

  


As the Orc army filed over the planes, stretching as far as the eye could see, I was filled with hope and fear. I took a deep breath, by heart beating faster with each moment that passed, with each footfall of the Orcs in our direction. Each second stretched on for what seemed like hours. With a final calming breath I drew my little sword and held it proudly. If I had to do this. If I had to stand and help defend my people, I wasn't going down without a fight. 

  


A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this. And please don't flame this if you can help it. I'm

really rather proud of this one, which is pretty rare for me.

  


Please review!


	2. epilogue

A/N: Its back! Due to popular request, I have decided to write an epilogue to this story, so you know a little bit of what happens to them all. This is just a short one, taking place the morning after the battle. Hope you enjoy!

  


Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to Tolkien, characters, places, and all that other stuff unfortunately are his.

  


~*~

  


  


I glanced around, the sick feeling that I had recently grown so accustomed to rising in my stomach yet again. The horrid smell from the bodies piled up all around me was so strong that it clouded my mind, making any trace of coherent thought impossible. Trying to escape the fumes, I walked quicker along the wall surrounding the fortress, the very wall I had all stood on, surrounded by the neighbors I had known my entire life, all of us awaiting the Orc army. Even though the sun shone brightly now, misery still overcame my mind as I though about all those who had died. A great number had fallen, all in ways more gruesome then the last, several of which I myself had been forced to witnessed. 

  


I looked at the faces of those who had fallen for Rohan with a great sadness, recognizing many of them. Too many of them. I stopped for a moment, reaching out a hand to someone on my left. It was one of the men I had fought beside in battle. I stumbled, pulling my hand back sharply, as images invaded my mind, images I had fought hard to repress. 

  


I saw all over again the intense blackness of night, the rain falling hard on both men and orc. I watched as the creature that had killed the man in front of me, drove the spear through his chest. I looked on in horror at the look of pain and terror that froze on the mans features as his heart beat for the last time, and he collapsed to the ground. This image pushed even more into my mind, like the first time I got a close look at an Orc. 

  


The first time I looked into the mutilated face of one of those horrific creatures, one that had just managed to climb up the wall by way of a ladder, I had been paralyzed with fear, knowing as it raised its crude ax that I should try to strike out at it, or at least move out of the way, though I found I did not have control of my legs. I probably would have died then had it not been for the arrow so expertly shot from one of the elven archers. I blinked my eyes sharply, shaking my head vigorously to banish the thoughts. I had hoped that my memories would fade with the rising sun, but I was not so lucky. 

  


I kept walking, my pace quickened now, tears welling in my eyes. As I continued, I passed the elf captain, whose name I had later learned was Haldir, though that information was of no use to me now. Even in death, I couldn't help but notice that he still held that grace that all of the elves had possessed, though his bright eyes were now empty.

  


I reached a clear spot on the wall and gazed out over the land, images again flashing through my head. Images of the army, standing in formation, ready to attack. I saw the lightning reflect off of the heavy plates of armor strapped across their chests, and heard the war cry of that lone Orc standing slightly above the others on the large boulder. A single tear fell down my face as I again watched the army rush forward, holding no grace or agility like the elven army, but instead something that made you want to run and hide, to surrender and to beg and plead for mercy. I remembered the feeling of panic and fear that had coursed through my body as Lord Aragorn cried out in a language that I could only assume was a form of Elvish and watch as the thousands of arrows that rained down upon the Orcs backs killed many, but not nearly enough. 

  


I watched as the thick wooden ladders were hurled against the wall with such force that the stone under my feet shook, and as the first few Orcs pushed their way onto the wall. Again I blinked my eyes, brining myself back to the current time, where the sun was bright and sky clear, and forced myself on.

  


I walked slowly along the length of the wall, trying to keep my mind focused on anything but the battle. It was still to soon to think about, and I was afraid that if I if I did let my mind wander to it, one particular event from the night would come back to haunt me. I didn't want that to happen.

  


Unfortunately, Just the single thought in reference to the memory was enough though, and it didn't help when I realized in my mindless walking I had stumbled upon the very location. I stood right now on a stretch of the wall that looked out on a view I normally would have called beautiful. All of the bodies had been cleared away, both Orc and man, and the air was fairly clean. Just being here made that temporary dam I had built over those thoughts break, and they came flooding back in an instant. 

  


I took a few unsteady steps to my left, and sank slowly to my knees, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the cold, rough stone. This was the very place that Ethaon, my dear brother, had fallen. A tear fell down my cheek, leaving a tiny wet trail that was soon accompanied by another. Images began to flood into my head again, but this time not ones of death and horror. A picture of Ethaon, laughing merrily with me, as he pulled me down the sullen dusty street that our small house was built on came to mind. I could hear his laughter echo through my head one last time, though ever so slowly it faded, and was replaced by the shriek of pain that was haunting me, as I remembered exactly what I had fought so hard to forget. 

  


I recalled the exact look on his face as the crude Orc sword hit him, the exact look of fear, terror, and awful realization. I remember as I stood frozen in place, the call had come to retreat back to the main building, though for the second time in the one night, I couldn't make myself move. I watched as Ethaon's face paled considerably, and blood, his blood, shone through his tunic. I had watched, unable to do anything to help him as Ethaon drew his last breath, the shaky breath of a defeated warrior. It was then that I found my feet, though I wasn't moving to retreat, instead, I was rushing to my brothers side. 

  


As soon as my hands reached out to him, he fell, and I just barely caught him. I could tell he was already dead, yet I didn't want to accept the fact, I couldn't except the fact, I thought, holding his body close to mine. I felt a hand take a firm hold of mine and pull me to my feet, though I didn't respond at all. 

  


"Come little one, you must hurry," someone said in a soft, gentle voice. It was one of the elven warriors from Lorien, who had paused, if only for a minute to help me. I looked up at him, knowing he was right, almost all of the men were already safe inside. Quickly, I pulled fathers sword from where it hung on Ethaon's belt. It was not only now, the last bit of Father that I had left, but the last bit of my brother as well. Hugging the sheathed sword to my chest, I ran for the narrow path leading to the building, the Elven warrior following behind me, shooting perfectly aimed arrows at those Orcs close enough, and shouting Elven words to his companions. My eyes focused on what was around me again, and the darkness faded, giving way to daylight again.

  


It seemed unreal to me still. That Ethaon was truly gone. Yes, I myself had witnessed his death, yet I still held some faint hope that he would walk up behind me right now, rest a hand on my shoulder and whisper comforting words as he had before the battle had begun. If it hadn't been for his words, I never would have gotten through the night alive. If only I had been able to return the favor. I rested my head in my hands, not giving any attempt at wiping away my tears, simply allowing them to fall freely. I cursed under my breath, touching the worn sword, the very sword that I had taken from Ethaon last night that hung now about my own waist, suddenly knowing how those who had had family members die in the small battle that had occurred before we reached the fortress must have felt, even though that small battle seemed like it had happened days, maybe even weeks ago.

  


I felt a light hand rest gently on my shoulder, and glanced up quickly, startled, for I hadn't heard anyone approach. Besides even though I knew it couldn't happen, I still held a faint, crazed hope that it might be Ethain. However it was not, and standing over me, a concerned look on his face, was the elf that had helped me the night before, and probably saved my life. Elarandil was his name, and he had served almost as a friend during the long night. 

  


"Try not to be sad, though I now it tis hard. The grief will pass, and however hard it may seem you must go on with your life," he said giving me a sympathetic look. "Your brother would wish it so." I nodded, giving him a sad, yet thankful smile, for those words would live on in me forever. Years later even, when grief ate away at my insides till I felt I could stand it no longer, I would become my nine year old self again, standing on that wall, hearing those words, and knowing that I could indeed carry on, and even more importantly, that I would. I stood slowly, the old sword still in my grasp and began to slowly return to where the others were preparing things, though for what I do not know, for my mind was numb. Elarandil was watching me go, I could feel his piercing eyes on my back, but it was a comforting feel. To know that without a father or a brother, you can still have someone watching over you, whether you knew them well or not was a welcome realization. 

  


  


A/N: Hope you liked it! Again please try not to flame if you can help it, though constructive criticism is welcome. I want to give a special thanks to every one who reviewed, you are the ones who helped convince me to write this, and a super special big thanks to PinkPinapple for being my beta reader.

  


  


LilMissMe: Thanks for the reviews! They meant a lot to me. And I love reading all of your thoughts on this story, they helped out quite a bit. Thanks!

  


Psycho Goddess: Ya, it is powerful to see war through the eyes of a child. I think especially after the battle, like in this chapter. I was nearly crying writing this. Thanks for reading this!

  


valin: I realized that once I had posted it and got a ton of reviews asking for more. I hope this is up to you requests! And thanks for reviewing!

  


Grunge-Muffin: Thanks for the reviews! And yes, I think that is the right book. I absolutly love it! And now its a trilogy! The next book 'Lirael' is the one I'm reading now, and then that one has a sequel called 'Abhorsen'. Great books really.

  


PinkPinapple: Thanks for the reviews, and for being such a great beta. Also, for helping me condemn poor Ethaon. He still wont talk to me.

  


JenJen: Thanks Jenny! Your reviews mean a lot to me!

  


June Augustine: Yes, I have decided to continue this as I'm sure you can already see, thanks to your wonderful review and several others who wanted it as well. Here you go, hope you enjoy! And thanks again for your reviews!

  


  



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